


every little thing she does is magic

by Burgundyrose



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/F, Fluff, Witches, thats...literally it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4511307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burgundyrose/pseuds/Burgundyrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kanaya and rose are witches of a different persuasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every little thing she does is magic

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted a lowercase rosemary fic  
> (title is from 'come on petunia' by the blow. everyone go listen to it.)

when you were younger, you had wanted to be a florist.  
the garden was your safe place, where you spent as much as your day as you were allowed. your favourite area was the warm grass, where the sun would hit you at exactly noon and you would never want to move again. you were born in winter, on a particularly cold day in august, and you had never quite recovered. your tiny body had been coughing and crying for weeks, and your mother thought you would die. when summer came, your body grew strong, and your sister saw your first smile. of course, this might be a story changed with time, but it’s one that you believe in.

cleanliness was important in your household, but sometimes, shaking her head and smiling, your mother permitted you to run outside with bare feet.  
you tried not to ruin your clothes though, as you had watched your mother sew the cotton materials together with delicate string, and you had ached. sometimes, though, a grass stain was inevitable, like when you saw a smooth, rounded pebble and had rushed over the mud from the night before, and over the wet daisies, and discovered that green was a surprisingly difficult colour to get out in the wash. that was okay, though, you didn’t mind. it had always been your favourite colour. you loved every colour, and you would tie together your favourite flowers into a bouquet with string- your hands dripping with roses, daffodils, forget-me-nots, hydrangeas- and run them to your mother as a gift.  
she employed you quickly as her helper, and when she potted plants or dug holes, she showed you the careful ways you had to treat the roots, the dirt. you learnt eagerly, soaking up the information.  
when she taught you how to crush herbs into soup, and the healing effects of lavender, she was teaching you the tricks of her trade. your lessons wouldn’t become more advanced for a few years, though, as your magic hadn’t grown yet. neither had you, even if your genes seemed destined for height. your sister and mother towered over you, but, in hindsight, most things did back then.

when you remembered your childhood, you thought of your garden.  
looking down at it now, at all the leaves you believed had carried fairies, and the secret hiding place under the willow tree, you can’t help but think how you have changed.  
you have nearly finished your training, and your magic has come, sputtering through your fingertips. your witchery, however, seems intent on greenery rather than some of the darker magics. as long as you are allowed to work in the sunlight, surrounded by your plants, you do not mind.  
you had even chosen your familiar: a small, speckled kitten. she was currently nameless, but she seemed to know when you needed her anyway.  
porrim had also chosen a cat, and had decided to make her living in another town, flying away there one moonlit night. she was enthusiastic for change, social movements, and you felt guilty at your complacency. you had always had very simple desires, which meant you couldn’t often be disappointed. stroking the leaves of one of your larger plants calmly, you consider your tasks for the day ahead.

after inheriting your mother’s healing stall, you had been busy with customers asking for your help. sometimes they just ask you over to their own gardens, so you can help their plants grow give them some sunlight. your family was unusual in its craft, although you supposed most were. your flesh glowed, from the inside out, which meant that not only were you a walking nutrient provider for plants, the winter nights were not nearly as long.  
when you so desired, plants flourished under your fingertips, growing supernaturally quickly, while your glow enhanced their nutrients. sometimes your job was as normal as selling ingredients to cooks, although you had to inquire as to what they were making. some of your plants could create dangerous spells, and you had to make sure they weren’t misused. 

you usually didn’t worry, as the majority of your customers had been coming for years, or decades, and had earned the trust of the family.  
today, though, you receive a customer who you’ve never seen before.  
she turns the handle and steps through as if the door wasn’t even an obstacle. like she was opening it for appearances, rather than physical necessity. this is what first piques your interest, but your eyes sweep to her forehead next. you aren’t sure whether it’s a tattoo or a birthmark, but she has a glowing white symbol of an eye right above the space between her eyebrows. although your experience has been limited, you recognise the sign of the clairvoyant.  
next, you stare at her dark lips, and they arrange themselves into a knowing smirk. shaking yourself inwardly, you ask if you can provide any service.  
“some tea leaves, perhaps,” she replies, a quaint melody to her tone.  
you quirk an eyebrow, almost disappointed by such an ordinary request, but she just smiles again, infuriatingly.  
you try not to let yourself become overly flustered, at both her beauty and abilities, but it is a difficult task. she is so different to everyone else in your small town, and her mystery is intoxicating. you wrap a rose on top of her newly wrapped parcel, tying a ribbon to secure its position. once you hand it to her, she notices the rose and laughs, a high-pitched, musical sound.  
“i don’t suppose that’s free of charge, is it?”  
you smile back at her, and nod.  
“you aren’t a regular customer, so i have coerce you into our ranks with flattery and flora.”  
her eyes twinkle, and she continues your banter: “has it become so desperate you need to sink to bribery? or perhaps i’m an exception?”  
she winks at that, and you blush. she laughs again, and leaves with her purchase.

she comes back two days later, and you tell her the bribery must have worked.  
“it seems flattery will get you everywhere, kanaya.”  
it’s the first time she’s flaunted her abilities in front of you, and you try not to be shocked.  
“i suppose you’ll have to tell me your name now, out of sheer convention.”  
“and not the least shred of curiosity?”  
“hardly,” you deadpan, and you both grin.  
she gestures around you as she says, “you guessed my name before i knew yours. perhaps you are underestimating yourself.”  
that throws you, slightly, and you guess the tea brand before you stumble across her actual name.  
“rose rather suits you, i think. i must’ve thought so, anyway,” you add without thinking, and you hope she doesn’t notice.  
she laughs, and gestures at your chest. you fluster for a moment, and then see your name tag.  
“for guessing my name, ill give you some advice for your future.”  
she saw your name on your tag, and you hadn’t even realised.  
“be observant.”

she buys her tea again, but changes the flavour- “i believe it’s a time for new beginnings. what’s your favourite tea, kanaya? maybe i can judge your taste.”  
you hope you are flirting. she seems too good to be true, to be interested in you, but she comes back again the next day, and the next.  
one day, you offer to drink the tea here, as your workplace is relatively casual. you are also grasping at any opportunity to get to know her better when you are not restricted to behind a counter. she seems to understand, and she sits with you amongst the moss and the weeds (they are harmless, but you always found them rather aesthetically pleasing).  
you brought a pillow for her, so as to not ruin her velvet skirt, but she joins you on the grass and seems at ease. you are glad, despite the inevitable stains.  
the two of you sit calmly, content to simply drink tea in silence and appreciate the garden around you. at least, you think that is what she is doing, but every time your eyes stray from the ladybugs her eyes are on you.

she waits patiently until you finish your tea, and then motions her hand towards it.  
“rose? my cup is empty. would you like me to make you any more?”  
once again her lips spread thin over her pearly teeth, and your heart beats violently against its cage.  
“surely you have guess my profession by now? a seer must earn her wage somehow.”  
it takes you a moment, but you realise she wants to read your tea leaves.  
“tasseography?”  
she seems momentarily startled, but continues.  
“yes, that is the technical term. i prefer to call it divination.”  
after a few minutes have passed, her wrist swirling around the leftover tea in your cup, she stops.  
“hmm. your future is particularly cloudy.” her eyes are sparkling as she says it, but there is a comical frown on her lips.  
“perhaps i better try palm reading instead.”

you swallow nervously, and she replaces the cup with your hand, gently turning it upright. she traces the etching on your palm, many from your labor-intensive job, but some naturally engraved. her fingers are so warm, and you feel as if you will explode from your blush.  
it is the most intimate thing you’ve ever done.  
she smiles, and you wonder what she has found in your palm but not in your eyes. however, her gaze quickly turns towards yours, and her smile remains, sweet and mischievous. she moves closer towards you, in what you assume is excitement.  
“kanaya, your love line is very intriguing,” she says, unable to keep a straight face, “it seems, from my expert calculations, that your love life will soon experience new and exciting passion.”  
your heart stutters for a moment, and she waggles her eyebrows, still holding onto your hand. before you can ask what she means, she closes the gap between you. her kiss is divine, you think, and then catch yourself. if you laugh into her lips, both of your smiles escaping you, neither of you pay it much mind. the flowers wrap themselves around your entwined bodies, an earthly embrace.  
(rose laughs about it later, as she always does. you stammer an apology, that you couldn’t control it, and she laughs even more.)


End file.
